The Masque of Saturn
by thecirclesquare
Summary: Laura swears off magic for the holidays... That is, until Carmilla invites her to the The Masque of Saturn, a supernatural masquerade ball. What Laura doesn't know is that during Saturnalia everything that "is" becomes upended; slaves become masters, debtors become rich. The real question is, what do snarky vampires become? And more importantly, what will become of Laura?
1. Chapter 1

I'm not even going to lie, helping Perry pack her bags was a total downer. And when LaFontaine knocked on the door with their suitcase in their hand, I got a little teary-eyed. LaFontaine set the suitcase down and tucked their hands into their coat pockets.

"Are you sure you don't want to just come home with us? My parents would love it! The more the merrier!"

"Nah," I said, "I promised Perry I'd take care of Prospective Students Week."

"Yeah," Perry said. "Laura is saving my neck. Otherwise, I'd be stuck here for the next two weeks, babysitting brats... I mean, supervising fine young men and women."

She gave me the most pitiful look.

"Seriously, I owe you," she said. "Like seriously, I'll bring back a million homemade cookies."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "It's nothing."

But even as I said it, I got that sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Won't your dad miss you?" LaFontaine said.

"Nope," I said. "He's busy anyway."

"Busy? On Christmas? Or, is it Hanukkah?"

"It's Christmas, thanks for asking, but yeah… he said he has to go to some last minute wilderness survival conference in Portland, so here I am. We'll just celebrate a little late this year. It's no big deal."

"Alright, well, I hate to rush things, but Perry, we kind of gotta go."

"I know, I know!" Perry said. "Don't worry your pretty little head. I'm never late."

She zipped up her suitcase and checked her watch.

"See! Right on the dot."

They shuffled out the door, and just before they left, Perry handed over the dorm keys, a huge rusty keyring filled with a mix of old, brass skeleton keys and smaller, modern ones.

"Whatever you do," she said. "Don't ever open door 444."

"444?" I said. "Is there even a fourth floor in this… you know what… I don't want to know."

A car honked outside.

"Have a great holiday!" I called as they shuffled down the front steps. "See you in a few weeks!"

"Bye!" Perry called from the car window. "Good luck with those high school kids! If you're not careful they'll eat you alive!"

LaFontaine waved and was about to get in, but then they turned around, running up the steps toward me. They grabbed me into a bear hug, quite unexpectedly — not that I'm complaining.

"I'll miss you," they said.

"It's nothing!" I said. "Just a few weeks! I'll see you in no time!"

"Well, try to have some fun, at least."

"Fun? You know me, I'm the queen of fun," I said. "Besides I have tons of plans, so…"

"Doctor Who marathon?"

"Yeah, pretty much," I said.

The car horn honked again.

"Now, you're making _me_ late!" Perry shouted.

"Take care," LaFontaine said, squeezing my arm.

"Yeah! You, too!"

I watched the car pull away, hugging myself against the chilly morning air. And when they had turned the corner, I stepped back inside.

I walked up the stairs slowly. The building was quiet. LaFontaine and Perry were the last ones out. I held the heavy keyring in my hand, and when I got to the third floor landing, I remembered Perry's warning. I looked up the stairs.

_Is there a whole other floor up there?_ I wondered.

I stood with my hand on the banister, leaning forward.

"Hello?" I called.

Silence.

_Nevermind,_ I thought. _This is going to be a magic free vacation! No sentient library card catalogs! No enchanted texts! No giant mushrooms!_

When I opened the door, Carmilla was lying on her bed, her head on my pillow and her boots resting against the wall.

"Hey, Cupcake," she said. "You got a package."

"Oh," I said.

I picked up the box; it was from my dad. I sat down on my bed and stared at it.

"Well? Aren't you going to open it?"

"I thought you had plans this holiday," I said. "Aren't you supposed to be in Alaska or something? Land of the endless night? What did you call it? It's like a vampire's Ibiza?'"

"Oh, that? Something else came up."

"Something else came up?"

"Yeah," she said, sitting up.

We stared at each other for a minute.

"Oh, come on, the suspense is killing me!" she said.

"It's from my dad," I said. "It's my Christmas present, probably."

"I might be a little old, but, aren't you kids supposed to get excited about Christmas presents?"

"I would get excited, but I already know what it is. He gives me the same thing every year."

I sat with my hands on the box, rubbing my fingertip over the return address label.

"Fine," Carmilla said, standing up. "If you don't open it, I will."

She grabbed the box from my lap, carried it to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and stabbed the box two times. The sound made me jump. Then she set the knife aside and pulled the box open with her bare hands.

_Jeez, she's strong!_ I thought.

I don't know if I thought her superhuman strength was a turn on or was just plain scary. Probably, both.

"Hmm," she said, regarding the items in the box. "Interesting choice."

"Let me guess, night goggles? A fresh supply of bear spray? A mosquito net? A solar powered GPS locator?"

"No," Carmilla said.

She reached into the box and pulled out a shiny, red welding torch.

"Perfect," I said. "Just what I always wanted."

"Well, it doesn't exactly scream holiday cheer, but at least it's red."

"Yeah, great," I said. "Now all we need is a string of lights and some popcorn garlands, and we can have ourselves the lamest Christmas tree ever."

"Wait, there's something else…"

Carmilla reached into the box.

_Please let it be something frivolous!_ I thought. _Heck! I'll even take socks! Just a pair of socks!_

She pulled out a hand-crank flashlight.

"And that's not all..." she said.

She pulled out a welder's mask, the front flat and reflective. She slipped it over her head.

"Laura, I am your father," she said, her voice muffled and hollow behind the mask.

"Very funny," I said.

She picked up the welding torch and pulled the trigger, the flame flicking out like a dragon's tongue, catching fire to the candles over Carmilla's bed.

"Whoa!" she said, laughing. "This thing would be great for s'mores!"

"Holy crap, Carmilla!" I said, grabbing the torch from her hands. "You don't just operate a welding torch all willy-nilly without reading the instruction manual! Especially not indoors!"

"Instructional manual? What instruction manual?"

I dug into the packing peanuts and pulled out the paper pamphlet.

"This instruction manual!"

"What can I say?" she said, lifting the mask up. "I live life on the edge… Why would your dad send you a welding torch anyway?"

"Oh, you know, he's just trying his best to help me survive the imminent apocalypse. It's how he shows he cares."

"Hmm," Carmilla said. "That's sweet, I guess."

"You know what," I said. "Who needs presents anyway?! The last thing I want to do is contribute to the rampant consumerism in this country! No, I'm just going to stay out of it this year. I'm going to stay right here, watch my DVDs and reduce my carbon footprint for the holidays. It's my gift to the planet! Merry Christmas, Earth!"

In the process of my little speech, I had grabbed the mask and the welding torch from Carmilla's hands, tossed them back into the box, and shoved the box under my bed.

I sat at my computer desk with my arms crossed. I stared at the screen without really looking at it.

"Um," Carmilla said behind me. "Now that you've gone all anti-consumerist and stuff, this might not be the best time, but…"

Her words sparked my interest. She opened a drawer behind me.

"... I got you something."

She set a wooden box on the corner of the desk; it was dark cherry, tied up with a golden ribbon, and carved into the front was a seal of an old man holding a scythe.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," I said. "I don't have anything for you."

"It's fine," she said. "I told you, it was a last minute thing. Just open it."

"Okay," I said, and when I touched the golden ribbon, my heart skipped a beat.

_A real present!_ I thought. _Please, don't let it be something weird._

She must have noticed my hesitation.

"Don't worry," she said. "It's not a dried batwing or anything."

I laughed and pulled the lid off.

Inside the box, set in a green silk lining, was the most beautiful mask I'd ever seen. It was golden silk, and decorated with jewels and ribbons; the jewels looked strikingly real, and the ribbons were every shade of the rainbow. I picked it up.

_Okay, that's impressive,_ I thought. _A little kinky, but impressive._

"Wow!" I said. "Someone went a little crazy with the bedazzler!"

"You don't like it?"

"It's a mask."

"Yeah, but not just any mask! It's for The Masque of Saturn."

"The Masque of what?"

"It's a masquerade ball to celebrate the Saturnalia. It's very exclusive; I've been on the waiting list for thirty-three years."

"Thirty-three years?"

"Yeah, but this year there were some cancellations, so I guess you could say we got lucky."

"We?"

"Yeah, you and me. I'm allowed to bring a 'plus one.'"

She said this with her fingers in air quotations.

"Let me guess, this is a _magical_ ball of some sort, isn't it?"

"Yes, I guess you could say it's... supernatural."

"I thought so."

"Well, if you don't want to come..."

"It's not that I don't want to come, it's just, I kind of swore off the supernatural for the holidays."

"Just like you swore off presents?"

I blushed.

"Anyway," she said. "Think about it. I've got to go get some, you know… groceries, before the lab closes for the holidays."

She walked toward the door, and I watched her go. Then she paused, leaning her weight against the door frame, looking down at her boots as she spoke.

"I mean, it would mean a lot to me, if you came," she said.

"Yeah, I know, I just…" I mumbled.

"Besides," she said, cutting me off, "there will be waltzing."

At that, I stalled, my excuses caught in my throat.

She smiled from the doorway, then walked away.

I turned back to the mask, picked it up, brought it to my face and checked my reflection in the computer screen.

"Besides, there will be waltzing," I said in my best Carmilla voice.

_Wait,_ I thought. _Was she talking about waltzing? Or, waltzing-waltzing!?_

I threw the mask back into the box and closed the lid, smiling like an idiot.

_Best. Christmas. Present. Ever._


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, I accepted the invitation. Who turns down an opportunity to waltz with a 300-something-year-old vampire at a super-exclusive Saturnalia ball?

I mean, seriously? Who?

The only problem was, the directions Carmilla had written out for me led to the far reaches of the Silas campus; and by far reaches, I mean, into the very depths of the woods.

I stepped lightly, hugging myself against the cold night, my breath forming hot clouds in the air.

I took out my new flashlight (_thanks dad_) and checked the directions again.

_Turn right at the Summers Statue, pass the Silas Alumni Cemetery, turn left at the crematorium, and if you're heading into the woods, you're going the right way. Follow the path about ten minutes until you reach the steps of Munera Hall. _

"Munera Hall?" I said to no one, glancing around. "There's nothing out here!"

I continued reading.

_And if you get lost, just follow the fireflies. _

"The fireflies? It's too cold for fireflies."

I thought I heard a twig snap behind me. Instinctively, I turned off the flashlight.

"Hello?" I whispered into the darkness. "Carmilla? Is that you?"

Silence.

_I don't know why we couldn't just come to this thing together,_ I thought. _Why does she always have to be so mysterious?_

I was about to turn the flashlight back on when a single firefly buzzed to life right in front of my nose. It seemed to regard me, hovering and glowing, it's wings lit up by it's luminescent abdomen. Behind it another firefly lit up, and then another and another, until a clear trail was laid out before me; a trail of floating fireflies, each one patient, quiet and transfixing.

I smiled and followed them until I arrived at the steps of a dilapidated old building. The front porch was supported by Grecian columns, each completely overgrown with scraggly vines. The windows were dark and the place was silent.

"Hello, Serial Killer City," I said.

But when I turned on the flashlight and pointed it at the rusty placard by the door, it was unmistakable.

_Munera Hall. _

"I guess this is the place."

I took out Carmilla's note, hoping she had left instructions for what to do in case of a not-so-spontaneous building abandonment.

But when I pulled the paper out of my pocket, it got caught up in a gust of wind, blowing away — just like that — into the dark woods.

"Perfect!" I said. "Just perfect!"

I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and kicked the rickety floorboards.

I paced and bit my lip as I debated my next move.

_What am I supposed to do now? It's frackin' cold out here!_

That's when I noticed the fireflies were closing in. They moved toward me — slowly, but surely — and gathered at the front of my coat. I stepped away, but they followed. I can't say they were aggressive about it, but _persistent_ might be a better word. No matter where I went, they followed, always gathering near my coat pocket.

"What do you want from me you nosey little lightning bugs?" I said.

One firefly landed on my hand, and its tiny legs tickled my bare wrist. I yanked my hand out of my pocket.

Inexplicably, more landed on my coat, crawling very delicately into the pocket.

"What do you want in there?" I asked, and that's when I remembered it.

_The mask. _

I pulled the golden mask out of my pocket and held it up.

"Is this what you want?" I asked.

I half-expected an answer, but of course, there was none; not in words anyway.

Instead, they hovered around the mask, flying toward it, as if encouraging me; their tiny wings buzzing optimistically in the crisp air.

"You want me to put it on?"

Maybe it was all in my head, but I could swear they pulsed more brightly in response.

"Well, alright," I said. "If you insist."

I pulled the mask over my head, not expecting much, but when I pulled my hands away, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the mask fit perfectly, as if it were made just for me. And when I looked out at the fireflies they were already drifting away, floating back into the woods from which they had come.

"Hey, where are you going?" I called after them, walking down the front steps.

I thought I heard them laughing in response, but I shook the notion off, because fireflies don't laugh, not even super-intelligent fireflies. I mean, they don't have vocal chords, so how could they?

But the laughing continued; a muffled, cheerful laughter mixed with music.

_Wait a minute?_ I thought. _Is that a waltz?_

I had the strangest feeling that I was being watched; all of the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I noticed my shadow on the leaf-covered ground; my shadow cast on the ground by some inexplicable, warm light behind me.

I turned slowly.

My mouth fell open, and I gasped.

I gasped because Munera Hall was now completely transformed; the vines were cut away, the columns were coated in fresh white paint, and the porch floor was waxed and shining.

And the windows — which were lit up with soft, flickering light — were filled with vague humanesque shadows; they leaned, they laughed, they twirled.

"Whoa," I whispered.

I took one last look back at the fireflies. They waited just inside the tree line, glowing in slow pulses, as if cheering me on.

I pressed the front of my coat with my hands. I glanced down at my slip-ons and hoped there wasn't a dress code.

_Oh, god! Is there a dress code? Carmilla would tell me if there was a dress code, right? I mean, it's super-exclusive, right? I mean, I don't want to embarrass anyone!_

I turned around, ready to run down the stairs, but the fireflies pushed me back toward the door.

"Alright, alright!" I said with my hands up.

I licked my lips, straightened my hair and reached for the gilded door knocker.

_Besides, you're wearing a mask, _I told myself. _No one will recognize you anyway. _

I took a deep breath and knocked twice.


	3. Chapter 3

I stepped into a dim entry way, the only light coming from two solitary candles set in the wall. And between the candles was a pair of ornate doors which were cracked open. The air was warm and filled with happy sounds and even happier smells; smells like roasted pig and baked, cinnamon apples.

I was greeted by two women — at least I think they were women. They wore black tuxedos, and their eyes were hidden behind plain white masks.

They smiled cooly and reached for my coat with white-gloved hands.

"Welcome, Ms. Hollis," they said in unison. "We've been expecting you."

"Yeah, sorry I'm late," I said, shimmying out of my coat. "I had some trouble with the directions. Those fireflies, though, they're helpful little suckers."

They said nothing to this.

One woman escorted me to a small table by the double doors, pointing down at a silver ink well and an ancient guestbook. The other woman was busy hanging my coat up on a coat rack. She handled it delicately, as if my coat were studded with diamonds.

"Wait a minute," I said, squinting in the candle light.

My coat sparkled.

"That's not my coat."

I took a step toward her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is there some mistake?" she said.

I reached for the coat. I ran my fingers along the thick sleeve; the material was heavy, velvety — luxurious even. I pulled the sleeve toward my face, and when the light caught the material just right, it sparkled as if someone had sewn a thousand tiny stars into the fabric.

"No, no, no! This is definitely not my coat! No way!"

The other woman touched my shoulder.

"Ms. Hollis, I assure you, this is the coat you were wearing when you walked into the hall."

She was right; I had been there after all. But still, I couldn't believe my eyes.

_What's going on? _

"Now, if you will come this way, we can sign you up for the raffle," she said, gently guiding me back to the guestbook.

She placed a feathered quill in my hand, and when I reached for it, I gasped.

For, I, too, was wearing white satin gloves; the kind you see in old Victorian woodcuts.

I looked at my gloved hands, and then at my dress. It had changed into a red and gold number, complete with corset, puffy skirt and ample cleavage.

"Whoa!" I said, jumping back. "That's some serious Cinderella mojo right there!"

"Oh, are you referring to your costume?" the woman said. "It comes complimentary with the mask."

She presented me with a hand mirror.

"Is it not to your liking?"

I gaped at my own reflection. I gaped at my own hair which was pulled up, set in thick curls and decorated with black, green and purple feathers. I gaped at my bosom which was pushed up nearly to my chin, and at my lips which were as red as apples.

"It's not that I don't like it," I stuttered. "It's just very…"

"Is it not the costume you chose?"

_Carmilla!_ I thought. _Of, course!_

"Um, I didn't choose it," I said. "It was a gift."

"Oh, well that explains it," she said, setting the mirror aside. "Now, if you could simply write your name twice here, then we can get you entered into the raffle and on your way."

She tapped again on the faded page of the guestbook.

"A raffle?" I said. "Really?"

"It's required of all our guests. It will only take a moment."

"Alright," I said.

I dipped the quill into the black ink, but when I scratched my name on the page, it appeared as red as blood, which was… disconcerting. And when I had finished writing my name twice, both copies caught fire in a flash of light, burning up and fading out faster than the fastest firework, leaving only an ashen signature on the page.

"Whoa," I whispered, touching the page with the tip of my finger.

The place where I had signed was still warm. I read the names above mine; Lucille Ball, Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe.

"No way," I said to myself. "It can't be."

"Now, it's done," the woman said.

She took the quill from my hand and closed the book in one quick gesture; the sound snapped me out of my stupor.

"Here is your dance card," she said, slipping a string around my wrist, a little paper card dangling from the string. "Your coat check under number is 20,598."

"20,598?"

"Yes. The buffet will be set at ten o'clock. The raffle will be held at midnight on the dot. Guests are required to attend in the ballroom. The raffle will be followed by the Secret Saturn gift exchange. If you did not prepare a gift, a gift will be prepared of you."

"You mean, _for _me," I corrected her. "A gift will prepared _for_ me."

"No, I mean of you. Please enjoy!"

She pulled open the doors before I could discuss the point any further.


	4. Chapter 4

"Holy fire hazard!" I said as I stepped into the ballroom.

There was not a single electric light in the place. Instead, three enormous chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each bearing hundreds of candlesticks; and even more candles were set into the walls, their flames flickering in time with the masked dancers.

And — Oh! — The dancers!

They whirled and twirled so gracefully that one might think they were floating on a cloud rather than dancing on a solid, marble floor.

I gasped.

The double doors latched shut behind me.

The woman's salutation echoed in my mind. _Please enjoy!_

_What had she said before that? _

I didn't have time to answer myself, because the little card she had tied to my wrist began fidgeting at my side. Yes, I said the dance card began fidgeting. I raised my hand to get a better look, and that's when the little card charged forward with the force of a St. Bernard, pulling me straight into the crowd of dancers.

It turned this way and that, as if looking for someone, and I followed behind, being dragged like a rag doll, bumping into strangers left and right.

"Excuse me," I said. "Oh, pardon me… excuse me."

I nearly slammed into a massive man. He wore a tuxedo like the women in the entryway, and his face was completely covered with a solid white mask. He glared down at me with his arms crossed in front of his barrel chest.

"Sorry," I said. "Does this thing come with training wheels?"

He glared down at me, not saying a word, but I thought I heard him whisper.

_Sack of rice._

"What was that?" I said.

He said nothing.

I was mildly creeped out and mildly confused, but soon the dance card spun me around, dragging me in another direction.

When I had nearly made it to the opposite side of the room, the dance card halted in mid-air.

"Oh, thank Joss!" I said with a huff.

I took a deep breath, because, let's be honest, running in a corset is nothing to sneeze at.

And when I looked up, I saw her — Carmilla — leaning against a wall, almost unrecognizable, her hair pulled back and away from her face, her eyes hidden behind a red mask, and her mouth hanging open in a half-smile. She wore a red dress with black lace trim. From what I could tell, her dress was from a similar period as mine, and it emphasized a similar amount of bosom — not that I'm complaining.

As she stepped away from the wall, the little card on her wrist pulled desperately toward mine.

"I was afraid you might not make it," she said.

"Yeah, well, apparently, I speak firefly, so…"

I laughed at my own joke.

The cards at our wrists leaped toward one another, pulling us together with great force, until we were standing face to face.

"They're adamant little suckers, aren't they?" I said.

"Yes, and..." Carmilla said.

She lifted up my hand, opening up the card at my wrist and pointing.

"...I kind of hoarded your dances tonight."

I stood absolutely still. It was all too shocking; the way she smiled openly, the way she spoke plainly. Because though she was a wearing a mask, one that pushed against her red cheeks and emphasized her dark eyes, she was also surprisingly maskless; the snark I had grown so used to… it seemed to have slipped away.

The effect was both exciting and disorienting.

"See?" she insisted.

I glanced at the card, and all twenty lines were filled out with one name, Carmilla Karnstein — over and over — and when the lines ran out, the names continued on in smaller and smaller script, until they were no longer legible.

"Wow," I said. "How many dances is that, exactly?"

"About thirty-eight," she said.

"Thirty-eight."

"Well, you know, it's not set in stone. If you get bored of me…"

"No, no, it's fine. And besides, our dance cards seem quite enamored with each other. It would be a shame to separate them."

"It would be, wouldn't it?"

We stood like that, face to face, neither of us really breathing, I think.

Something was different about her, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was something in her face, something in her smile, in the way she looked down at her own feet, turning her face slightly away from me. It was something in her cheeks, a pinkish glow, and when I say glow, I mean she was glowing in a way I'd never seen before.

She almost looked… young… bashful.

And she _smelled_ incredible!

All this time the orchestra had been playing, but at that moment, the music stopped abruptly. The crowd clapped, and the dancers shuffled between partners.

We stood still.

Then the band started up again, easing into a new melody, one that I recognized.

"Isn't this in a chocolate commercial?" I said.

She laughed.

"It's the Blue Danube!" she said. "It's one of the most beautiful waltzes ever written! Shall we?"

I took her hand, and soon we were twirling with all the other dancers. For a moment, I was nervous that I'd stumble, lose my footing, or otherwise embarrass myself. But I was wrong; waltzing was easier than I had expected, and with Carmilla's hand on my waist, I felt like I was floating on a cloud. We laughed.

She laughed in a way that was completely new.

"Of course, this waltz was written hundreds of years after waltzing was a scandalous folk dance, but that doesn't diminish its beauty."

"No, it doesn't," I said.

_Or yours,_ I thought.

I noticed depths in her eyes that I hadn't noticed before, subtleties in the shades of brown and black, subtleties in the shapes when she laughed and when she smiled. And when she blinked, I swear I could count every single eyelash.

She tilted her head to the side, as if questioning my gaze.

Embarrassed, I glanced away.

That's when I noticed the other dancers, some of them dressed in the Victorian style, like Carmilla and me, and some of them dressed in other period garb; Elizabethan, Roman, Grecian, and other styles that I couldn't even name.

And some of them — though I had to blink several times for confirmation — some of them were footless.

"Wait just a minute!" I said, turning my head wildly. "That man has no feet! Where are his feet?!"

"Oh, him?" she said. "That's Mr. Poe."

"As in, Edgar Allan?" I asked.

"The very one," she said.

"But he's dead."

"Well, that's the point of the Saturnalia; everything that _is_ becomes overturned for one night. Slaves become masters, debtors become rich, the disembodied become embodied… sort of… mostly."

"And broody, sarcastic vampires become what? Shyly possessive vampires?"

"No," she said softly, her cheeks reddening.

I immediately regretted my choice of words.

"No," she repeated, "vampires become human."

I laughed, though it certainly wasn't an appropriate time; she was dead serious.

"Oh..."

The orchestra held the last chord of the Blue Danube for an exceedingly long moment.

"If vampires become human," I said, "then what do humans become?"

"What do you want to become?" she said.

The song ended, the crowd clapped, and the dancers switched partners.

"I don't know," I said, taking a step away from her.

"That's fine," she said. "The answer will reveal itself eventually."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's your own will that steers the magic, but only for one night. Heck, you may have changed already, and just not noticed."

"I don't feel any different."

But even as I said it, I knew it was lie. I'd never been such a good dancer, nor had I felt so confident, nor had I ever been able to count a person's eyelashes in the span of a single blink.

_Perhaps, I've simply become super observant and super coordinated,_ I thought. _Those are two things I've always wanted to be._

"We'll see," she said. "We'll see."

I couldn't help feeling like she knew something that I didn't.

Just then the next song started up.

"Perfect!" Carmilla said, pulling me back into her embrace. "The Vienna Blood!"

"The what?"

"That's the name of the waltz!" she said, grabbing my hand. "It's my favorite."

_How appropriate,_ I thought.


	5. Chapter 5

We danced and we reveled — twirling, twirling, stepping and twirling — hands locked, shoulders back, chests touching, even if just barely.

But it didn't matter how scarcely we touched, because I _felt_ her. I _sensed_ her, with all five senses and then some.

I felt the pulse in her hand — her tender, fleeting pulse — hot through my palm.

I felt her heart, too. I felt it right through my dress; right through my sternum.

I felt her breath against my cheek when she laughed (and she laughed more in those few dances than she had in the months that I'd known her.) Perhaps I shouldn't admit it, but I liked the smell of it, and the smell of her sweat, the smell of her hair. She smelled amazing, raw… alive!

I heard the colors in her laugh. I heard her steps on the marble floor. I heard the swish, swish of our voluminous skirts as we turned. Even over the bellowing tubas and the swelling violins, I heard all of this. Even over the voices of the other guests, I heard her body sounds; her heartbeat, her breath, her stomach rumblings.

And above all else, I _saw her._ I stared at her face like a child stares at a mobile overhead, transfixed by some mystery of physics that I could still not quite fathom.

"Laura?" she said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry… it's just… you're glowing."

It wasn't an exaggeration. In fact, I had grown quite certain of it.

"What?"

"Your face... your cheeks and your lips... they're glowing!"

"Oh, that!" she said. "Every human glows. You've just never noticed it before."

"What do you mean every human glows?"

"You know, bioluminescence, like your firefly friends."

"Are you serious? Or, are you just messing with me?"

"It's perfectly natural. Wait a minute... you can see that?"

"Yeah. I can see a lot of things, and hear a lot of things, and…"

I stopped myself before admitting the extra-sensory smell part. I felt suddenly dizzy.

"Whoa! Whoa!" she said. "Let's take a break, Twinkletoes."

"Yeah, just give me a minute."

I leaned against the wall, and she leaned over me. She pulled off her red glove, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead.

"Laura, are you alright?" she asked. "You look pale."

"I'm fine. I'm just hot!" I said.

But when she touched me, her hand felt like fire against my skin.

"You're ice cold," she said. "Maybe we should sit somewhere."

"No, no, I'm just not used to so much dancing. And this corset… it's killer!"

"Are you sure?"

She cupped my cheek in her palm. Her pulse was pounding! — pounding!

"Yes," I whispered. "Just give me a minute…"

Without thinking, I closed my eyes and I pressed my face harder against her hand, rubbing my cheek against her flesh, the way a cat rubs its whiskers against its master's legs. And then much like a cat will do, I opened my mouth — quite suddenly violent — and I pressed my teeth against the fleshiest part of her palm, just below the thumb.

She cried out.

Horrified at my own behavior, I stepped away, covering my mouth with my own hands.

"I'm sorry!" I said.

"It's okay!" she said. "It's not like you broke the skin or anything. See?"

She wasn't scared or upset. In fact, she laughed.

"I don't know what's wrong with me!" I said.

"I do!"

"What?"

"You're hungry!" she said. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about! I mean, I'm about ready to devour an entire elephant!"

"I'm not sure…" I started to protest.

Just then the lights came up, though how candlelight can become brighter, I'll never know. On the far side of the room, a man in a thick, blood-red robe and mask stepped onto a stage. He held up a single, red-gloved hand.

The music stopped. The dancers stopped. The laughter stopped.

Carmilla leaned against the wall, pulling me close to her, holding me still.

"Patience, Dancing Queen," she whispered in my ear. "It's almost feast time."

The crowd was quiet but I heard a strange, conspiratorial whispering.

_Sack of rice!_ the whispers said. _Sack of rice!_

"Did you hear that?" I asked Carmilla.

But before she could answer me, the man on stage lowered his hand and cleared his throat. When he spoke his voice was so deep that it shook the chandeliers.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and, uh… otherwise," he said, his mask as still as death. "I hope you are all enjoying yourselves on this the, uh… on this the, uh..."

He tilted his head to the side. "On this the… thirtieth millenial? Wow! Has it been thirty millenia already? Time flies, huh? Anyway, welcome to the Thirtieth Millenial Saturnallia Ball. Oh! How rude of me. I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Saturn, the God of Agriculture and Plenty."

The crowd clapped warmly.

"Thank you, thank you," he said. "Anyway, I won't keep you from your revelry for long. I just want to say welcome, enjoy yourself… eat, pray, love, etc… but not too much! The last thing we need is a repeat of the Dancing Plague of 1508, am I right?"

A few laughed. I glanced at Carmilla. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, _Don't ask me. _

"But I digress. I'm here to remind you that the Raffle of the Munera will take place, here, in this ballroom, at exactly midnight. All guests are required to attend... blah, blah, blah. You guys know the rules. Anyway, the buffet has been set in the next room, and we will be opening the doors shortly. Please enjoy!"

_Sack of rice! Sack of rice! _

I heard the whisper buzz like a mosquito near my ear, but when I looked around I saw only a red-headed woman with striking blue eyes. She smiled at me, but I was certain she wasn't the whisperer.

Saturn was about to step off the stage, but then hesitated.

"Oh! And one more thing!" he said. "Due to budget cuts and the reduced number of offerings at the Temple of Saturn this century, there will be a fee for those who take more food than they can eat, 'Waste not, want not,' and all that jazz."

The woman next to me leaned closer.

"For the God of Agriculture and Plenty, he sure is a tightwad!" she said.

Her voice sounded uncannily familiar. It was on the tip of my tongue.

"I _said_," she repeated, leaning closer to me. "For the God of Agriculture and Plenty, he sure is a tightwad!"

She winked an exaggerated wink and laughed at her own joke. I recognized her then, even behind her pink mask.

I turned to Carmilla.

"Is that?" I said.

"Lucille Ball," Lucille Ball said, reaching for my hand. "Nice to meet 'cha! You know, they named this whole shindig after me."

If a deer in headlights could smile, it would smile like I did at that moment.

"You know," she went on, "Lucille _Ball!_"

"We get it," Carmilla said, pulling me away. "Let's go. I'm starving!"

"Tough crowd," Lucy said.

Carmilla pulled me to the double doors that stood between us and the feast.

"That was rude!" I said.

"Sorry," she said. "I get grumpy when I'm hungry. And I haven't been this hungry in centuries."

We stood at the doors and waited, a line formed behind us that seemed to stretch on forever.

_Sack of rice! Soon it is the sack of rice! Killer!_

I heard it again.

"Gosh, I've never heard so much excitement over rice," I said.

"What?"

"Everyone keeps talking about the rice. What could be so special about rice?"

"I have no idea," Carmilla said. "Maybe it's organic."

Just then the doors swung open. We were greeted by two more men in tuxedos and white masks. They nodded at us ominously as we entered.

I looked past them, and my jaw dropped. I saw rows and rows of tables, each one filled with extravagant dishes; stuffed pig, stuffed duck, stuffed turkey, stuffed apples and stuffed pumpkins. There were baked yams, braised asparagus, orange-glazed carrots, and pies of every kind. There was all of this and more, served on silver platters that glistened in the candlelight.

"Whoa," I gasped. And then I added a, "Huh…"

Because, surprisingly, there was no rice.

Next to me, Carmilla let out the faintest of faint moans. It was so soft and so genuine, it made me blush.

"I've been waiting for this feast for centuries..." she whispered, though whether she was talking to me or to herself, I can't say for sure.


	6. Chapter 6

And boy did she eat!

She took as much as she could, stacking food on her plate in great heaps, holding the plate close to her chest without a thought about ruining her dress. And when her plate was full, she stacked things on the edge of mine.

"Go easy, Tiger!" I said. "You heard Saturn. You've got to eat everything you take."

"That's the plan," she said.

"Okay, but, if we get hit with a fee, I don't have any cash with me. Do you think Saturn takes Visa?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head. When I get done with these plates, they will be so clean, we'll able to see our reflections in them…"

She gave me a strange look before adding, "Well, one of us will anyway."

She led me outside onto a moonlit balcony. We sat on a stone bench that looked out over the woods.

"Wouldn't you rather eat inside?" I said. "You know, on a table, with proper cutlery."

"Maybe I feel like keeping you all to myself," she said.

I blushed, of course.

She lifted a chicken leg to her mouth and sank her teeth in, leaning forward and moaning, her eyes rolling up in an expression of pure gluttony.

"That good, huh?" I asked.

"No, better! Aren't you going to eat?"

"Yeah," I said, looking down at my plate.

There were carrots and asparagus, potatoes and gravy, soft buttery rolls and jam, and slices of prime rib cooked so rare that it dripped in its own red juices. I ate that first.

When I had finished the meat, I nibbled on the roll, but I found it chalky and bland. The potatoes were even worse, tasteless and with the consistency of Play-doh. I barely swallowed one mouthful. The carrots, which should have tasted slightly sweet, were starchy and dry. I gave up.

_Ugh. Where's this amazing rice everyone was talking about?_ I wondered.

Carmilla on the other hand, she inhaled her food, moaning and groaning freely, like some overzealous actor in an infomercial. I couldn't decide whether to cringe or gape at her.

And when her plate was empty, she set her eyes on mine.

"Are you going to eat that?" she said.

"Nah," I said, pushing the plate toward her.

"What's wrong, Cupcake? You don't like it?"

"No, it's not that. I'm just not as hungry as I thought, I guess."

She smiled and tilted her head, her eyes lingering on my face.

"What?" I said.

"It's totally bland, right?" she said.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine."

"It tastes like sawdust in your mouth?"

"Well, maybe, a little bit... Okay, yes! It tastes like clay, and I don't fully understand your foodgasms, but I'm happy that you're happy."

"I know what you need!"

She grabbed my plate and ran back into the dining room before I could stop her, leaving me alone on the balcony. I couldn't stand looking at her empty plate, so I turned my face away.

And that's when I saw the stars — so, so many of them — set like jewels in the velvety fabric of the night sky. And the sky itself, which usually appeared like a canvas, two-dimensional and plain, now seemed incredibly deep, the blackness brought into shape by all the stars, by their light, by their locations, by their gravity and relationships; the blackness reaching back and back and back, into depths that I had never imagined.

For a moment, I did not breathe, enraptured by a primordial sense of awe.

"Here you go!" Carmilla said, setting a plate in front of me. "I had to throw a few elbows to get it, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

I looked down. My plate was overflowing with a heaping mound of prime rib — and nothing else — the red juices dripping from the edges of the plate and spoiling the stone bench beneath. I licked my lips.

"Oh, you shouldn't have..." I said, not sure if I should be grateful or repulsed.

"Don't be shy!" she said. "Dig in!"

She leaned back against the stone bannister while I stuffed my face. And yes, I did manage to eat the entire mountain of meat, as disgusting as that sounds.

Carmilla puffed her cheeks and moaned.

"Oh, I miss this feeling!" she said. "This wonderful, painful, satiated feeling! I miss food! Just normal food!"

"Food is pretty great," I agreed, finally feeling something similar to the satiation she was talking about.

"What else do you miss?" I said.

"About being human?"

"Yeah."

"Well," she said, leaning forward. "I miss being young, though I'm not sure that's a human thing, more of a triple-centenarian thing. I guess I miss being surprised by things, by people."

She reached for my hand.

"You don't know how lucky you are," she said.

I shivered but I didn't pull my hand away.

"Anything else?"

"I miss the watching the sunrise. I wish this Saturnial magic lasted until the morning. That would really be something."

"What happens if you watch the sunrise? As a vampire, I mean."

"Nothing really happens, it's just too painful. The sun is so bright, it burns my eyes, sears right into my retinas. It's nearly unbearable, as if the entire solar system is screaming at me."

"But you don't melt or anything?"

"No, nothing that dramatic. It's just unpleasant… but the stars are nice."

"Speaking of stars!" I said. "Have you seen the stars over this building?!"

"No, I haven't had the chance…" she said, but I cut her off.

I pulled her up by her hand and we leaned out over the balcony banister.

"Look!" I said. "Have you ever seen anything like it?! I wish _this_ would last until morning!"

She looked up, glancing only briefly at the sky, before looking back at my face. She had that strange look in her eye again.

"Describe them to me," she said softly. "The stars."

"What do you mean?" I said. "Look for yourself."

"I've already seen them. I want to know what you see," she said.

"Okay, well…"

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye.

"Um… they are so dimensional, so… solid. I mean, I see — no, I _feel_ it — I can feel the distances between the stars, which ones are closer, which ones are further away, some so far away, that when I look at them I feel like I'm spying in on the very beginnings of time... You think I'm crazy, right?"

"No," she said. "Go on."

"Well, they sparkle like jewels, like nothing I've ever seen, and… if I stand very still… I could swear they are…"

"They're what?" she said, leaning closer to me.

"I could swear they're moving… but that's impossible right? I mean, how could I see that?"

"No, you're right," she said. "Everything is moving — the stars, the planet, the entire solar system — they're always moving, endlessly. Don't you feel it?"

We stood still.

I did feel it, a subtle vibration in the ground, in the air, in the cold stone banister; it sent shivers up my arms.

"Yes!" I said, turning to her. "Yes, I feel it!"

"They're waltzing," she whispered into my ear.

"Waltzing! Of course!"

"Now you can guess the secret," she said.

She grabbed my hand. She pulled me to her — chest to chest, face to face.

"What secret?"

"The reason why all the planets are dancing," she said as she led me into a slow waltz.

"Because they want to…" I said slowly. "Because they…"

But some realization was just beyond my grasp. My mouth hung open as Carmilla turned me gently, her hand so warm in my own. When she brought me back to her chest our fingers settled together and I looked into her eyes, as dark and as deep as the night sky.

"Because they're attracted to each other," she said. "That's all gravity is, afterall — attraction on a cosmic scale."

"Because they..." I started.

_Love._

But I never finished the sentence.

Instead I stared at her lips, dumbfounded by their redness. I saw her blood pulsing there, a microcosm of movement, a primordial rhythm.

I grabbed her face, quite suddenly, and I kissed her — mid-twirl.

I was not scared. No, not scared at all. Everything in her body was soft and warm and gentle, completely different than what I had expected.

Instead, _I_ was the aggressor. _I_ was the one who held her face, who pushed against her up against the banister. _I_ was the one who — in a burst of rapturous violence — opened my mouth, caught her bottom lip between my teeth and bit down. _I _was the one who drew blood.

And the blood… it tasted like… _life_.

I licked my lips.

"Laura!" she said, pushing me away. "Wait a minute!"

I opened my eyes as if snapping out of a thick fog. I saw the bite on her lip. I saw the blood seeping out. She held her hand to her mouth.

"Oh my god!" I shouted. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry! What's wrong with me tonight?!"

But she just laughed in disbelief.

"Come on, Cupcake," she said. "You can't be that oblivious."

"Oblivious to what? I'm so confused. This whole place is so disorienting. You're all soft and glowing and kind and human-like, and I'm all grumpy, sporadically violent, and blood-thirsty…"

I trailed off mid sentence, my last words hanging in the air like an epiphany.

"Oh..._oh!_"

"That's right, Cupcake. You're a vamp now. Vamp with a capital V."


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm a vampire? I'm a vampire?!"

"So what? It's only for one night."

She reached for my hand, but I needed to sit down. I squeezed my temples in confusion.

"No, no, no. No way! This is so _not_ the secret will of my soul!"

"Tell that to Saturn, Sweetheart," she said, sitting down next to me. "The magic doesn't lie."

She reached for my cheek, but I pulled away.

"This is crazy! This is crazy! I don't want to be a vampire! Never have I ever uttered the words… 'Dear Universe, I know you're busy and all, but if you get a minute can you please make me a card-carrying member of the undead. Thanks never, Laura.'"

"Laura, come on," she said. "Is the idea really so repulsive to you?"

I hated the wounded expression on her face.

"You know that's not what I meant…"

"No, I get it. I'm disgusting. I'm only beautiful and kind and glowing when I'm human, but as soon as the night is over, as soon as the spell is lifted, I'll just be a grumpy, blood-thirsty monster, is that it?"

"That's not what I said."

But I might as well have said it for the amount of harm that I did. She stood a few feet off, her arms crossed and her shoulders turned away, as if she couldn't decide whether to stay or go.

"Carm...I'm sorry," I said. "I'm an idiot, okay? A tactless idiot."

"Yeah, you are," she said. "And don't forget oblivious."

"Okay, I'm a tactless... oblivious... blind idiot."

She turned back toward me and shrugged.

"We've only got a few more hours anyway," she said. "But if you can't bear it, we can leave right now."

"No, I don't want to leave," I said. "That's the last thing I want."

"Well, I mean, it's really hard to read what you want right now, so…"

"I want you to sit down."

With her arms still crossed, she sat.

"So I guess that explains all the biting," I said. "And the psychedelic stars, and the fact that I ate like five pounds of prime rib and nothing else?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"And why I can see your face-halo thingy, or whatever it is."

"Yep."

"And why I can hear your heartbeat and... stuff…"

I couldn't express the way the sound of her heartbeat made me feel, the way it simultaneously gave me chills and set my skin on fire.

"Yeah… and stuff," she said, looking down.

_She knows!_ I thought. _Of course, she knows. _

The air was thick. I took a deep breath.

"So enough about me... Let's talk about you...tell me more about being human."

She relented, dropping her hands to her lap and looking out over the woods.

"It's okay," she said. "I feel calm... quieter than I usually do. And that food, oh gods, I won't forget that meal for another three hundred years!"

"You never know," I said. "I mean, if we get on the waiting list now, we might get back here in another thirty years."

"We?"

"I mean you. That 'we' was purely hypothetical. I mean, in thirty years I'll be fifty!"

"I'd like to see that," she said softly. Then she continued. "But otherwise, being human is just… not what I remembered."

"Disappointing, huh?"

"No, I just kind of find myself missing things."

"Vampire things?"

"Yeah."

"Like the stars?"

"Like the stars…"

She looked down. She reached for my hand. She brought my wrist to her nose, inhaling slightly and smiling softly to herself.

"And the smells," she said. "And the sounds."

"Speaking of sounds," I said, "Is it normal to hear constant whispers? Or am I just losing my mind?"

"Oh, yeah, the whispers…" she said, pausing and listening. "I hadn't even noticed they were gone."

"So they're normal?"

"Totally normal. You're just overhearing people's thoughts."

"Wait! What?! You've been listening to my thoughts this whole time?"

"I said, _overhearing_… not listening. I've never intentionally listened to your thoughts, but when you get excited, sometimes I pick up on things."

"When I get excited?"

"Yeah, like when you watch the newest episode of whatever sci-fi show you're marathoning, or when you're looking at cute cat blogs, or when you're reading Potterotica, or when..."

"Oh my god! Kill me now!"

_Sack of rice!_ the whisper said. _Sack of rice! Killer! Killer!_

"Wait...I hate to interrupt you when you're right in the middle of humiliating me, but are you sure you didn't just hear that?"

"No. What?"

We glanced around. I listened again.

_Killer!_ slowly became more clear. _Kill her! Kill her!_

"Ugh, I really don't like this overhearing people's thoughts thing. There are some really creepy people here, tonight… like, possibly murderous people."

"You're just paranoid. It will pass."

"I hope you're right," I said.

But I didn't honestly believe her. And as she chatted on about the differences between vampires and humans, as she listed all the pros and cons of each, as we compared notes about our shared experiences, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched.

Granted, I was new to the whole super-sensing, mind-reading, spine-tingling experience of being a vampire, but my newly-acquired Spidey senses were telling me that something was amiss, that something dangerous was lurking in the shadows.

"Carmilla," I said.

She paused, shocked at the sound of her own name.

"Yes?"

"I really appreciate everything you've done for me tonight, with the invitation and the dress and the waltzing and all that… seriously...best Christmas present ever... but I think it's time to leave."

_Kill her, _the voices whispered. _Sac-a-frice._

I stood up, pulling on her hands.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. I've just got a bad feeling, that's all."

"I told you, you're just being paranoid. It will pass."

"I don't think so. I really don't think so."

She stood up, grabbing my face in her hands. "Laura, everything is okay. Do you really think I would let anything happen to you?"

"Well, no, but…"

She stared into my eyes, running her fingertips over my cheeks and along the bottom of my mask.

"I just want to dance with you one more time… without this stupid mask. Then we can go."

"Okay," I said.

I mean, who could argue with that?

But when she tried to push her fingers beneath the mask, but it wouldn't budge.

"Ow!" I cried.

"That's weird," she said. "It won't come off. It's like it's glued to your skin or something."

_You are the mask,_ the voices said. _And the mask is you._

She reached for her own mask and found that it as equally unmoveable.

"I don't think we can take them off. It's like some magical superglue spell or something."

"I think you're right… maybe we should get out of here."

She grabbed my hand and led me back to the ballroom. We made our way across the crowd of dancers, all of them sweat-stained and feverish. They looked drugged, as if under some trance — some dance-trance.

When we reached the front doors, they were blocked by two men in tuxedos and white masks. As we approached, the men shook their heads ominously from side to side.

"You cannot exit here," one man said. "All guests must be present for the raffle."

"Frack the raffle!" I shouted. "You can't just keep us locked up like prisoners!"

"All guests must be present for the raffle," he replied.

"Don't make a scene, Cupcake," Carmilla said. "We'll stay for the raffle and then head home after. No big deal. By the way, where's the ladie's room? I forgot how tedious it is to have a fully operational excretory system."

The man nodded his head toward the other side of the room.

Carmilla pulled me in that direction, and that's when I noticed them, more men and women in tuxedos. They lined the walls of the room, standing with their white-gloved hands clasped in front of themselves, white masks like ice; cold and unfeeling.

"Whoa! Where did the Creepy Tux Gang come from?" I said.

"They're the Servants of Saturn," she said. "And we obviously can't go through them, so we're going to have to find a way around them."

"In the bathroom?"

"It's a start," she said. "Maybe there's a window or…"

Just then the lights came up again, and all the dancers stopped dancing, turning instead like lemmings toward the stage. We were caught up in the momentum of the crowd as it surged forward. Carmilla's hand was torn away from mine.

"Hey!" I said. "Don't be so pushy!"

But it was too late. She was already several feet away and out of arm's reach as the bodies packed in around me.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen and otherwise," Saturn said from the stage, his voice shaking the chandeliers. "Is everybody present? No? No? I'm being told, no. Let's wait, shall we?"

Bodies and bodies pushed in around me on all sides; more bodies than I thought could ever fit into a single room. Soon my face was smashed right up against the back of Edgar Allan Poe, and Lucille Ball's hand was shoved into a very uncomfortable place.

"Now this is what I call up close and personal," she said.

"This is what I call a violation of building capacity laws," I said.

"Packed in we are, the constant pressing, pressing… like sardines pressing, evermore," Poe said.

"This is not the time for poetry!" I shouted. "Carmilla! Can you hear me?"

I saw the black and red feathers in Carmilla's hair, but soon even those disappeared as the crowd pushed in closer, closer, closer! I was completely crushed, and had I not been a vampire at that very moment, I'm sure I would have suffocated. I worried for Carm's safety.

"Guest number 20,121?" Saturn said. "We are waiting on number 20,121? There's always one straggler, am I right? Oh, he is here? 20,122 is here? Okay! Now that everyone is present, it's time for the raffle!"

"What the hell is he talking about?" I grimaced into Poe's back.

"It's the Raffle of the Munera," he replied.

"And what the hell is the Munera?"

"It's the sacrificial rite to Saturn, the God Agriculture and Plenty. Didn't you read the fine print in the invitation?"

_Sacrifice! Sacrifice!_

"What fine print?"

"By accepting the invitation you have consented to participate in the sacrificial rite. You have implicitly stated that you have read and understood the potential risk of the sacrifice."

"Potential risk?"

"Don't worry," he said, "You're not even human. Only humans are eligible for the sacrifice."

"Quoth the sardine, nevermore," Lucille Ball added.

"Only humans?" I said.

_Carmilla!_

I grabbed Poe's shoulders and pulled myself up, trying to get a better view over the crowd. I saw the stage. I saw Saturn turning the handle of an enormous gilded raffle drum.

"Round and round it goes," he said. "Where it stops, no one knows! Well, actually, I know, because I'm a god, but none of you know! That's what we in the biz call suspense!"

I saw Carmilla, she was some twenty feet away, close to the edge of the crowd and in distress. She clutched at her own throat like she couldn't breathe.

"Carmilla!" I shouted.

"Laura!" she coughed, but I knew she hadn't seen me.

"Carmilla! I'm coming!"

I shoved through the crowd, summoning every ounce of super-human strength I could muster.

But I was too slow.

"And the lucky guest is…" Saturn hesitated as he drew the paper from the drum. "... Miss Carmilla Karnstein!"


	8. Chapter 8

Before I could get to Carmilla, she was grabbed by two servants, their hands tight around her biceps, their mouths set in cold, grim lines.

And though I never saw their mouths move, I was sure they were the voices in my head.

_Sacrifice!_ they growled. _Sacrifice! Kill her! Kill her!_

With an incredible speed, the servants pulled Carmilla up onto the stage. They surrounded her, one tying a blindfold around her eyes, another tying a silk rope around her wrists, and another tying her legs. She struggled, but her efforts were pointless.

"I'm getting real sick of being tied up!" she grimaced.

The crowd cheered louder.

"Whoa! We've got a live one here!" Saturn said.

"Get your hands off me!" Carmilla screamed, lashing out as best she could.

I pushed through the crowd, but it seemed that no matter how many bodies I pummeled through, the stage remained just as impossibly far.

"I don't know what century you think this is," Carmilla growled, "but human sacrifices are a little passe."

"Uh-oh," Saturn said. "It sounds like someone didn't read the invitation."

The crowd sighed and laughed, an eerie combination.

"I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way," Saturn said. "Hold her down."

The servants picked Carmilla up and laid her out on a table; a table much like the ones used to serve stuffed pig and stuffed goose.

"And now, bring the sacrificial knife!" Saturn ordered.

"Laura?!" Carmilla cried. "Laura! What's happening?"

She called my name and that was all I needed. I exploded in a flurry of motion, running so fast to the stage that I made myself dizzy.

"Let her go!" I shouted as I ran up the steps. "Take me instead!"

But I was caught up in the white-gloved hands of a servant.

"Hold your horses, Vamp!" she hissed in my ear. "This isn't the Hunger Games."

Soon — two, three, four — more servants pounced on me, pushing my face down onto the stage. And when I looked up, Saturn seemed incredibly tall, towering over Carmilla, his knife raised over his head.

And what a knife it was! — the blade was long, curved like a scythe, and gleaming in the candlelight.

He plunged the knife down!

He plunged the knife down, and the only sound was the _whoosh_ of his red robe.

I screamed!

Carmilla screamed!

The crowd gasped and was still.

And then… and then…

Everything became red.

I saw red. I heard red. I smelled red and tasted it. In a fury of red, I threw the servants from myself. I leapt onto Saturn's back, scurrying up his robe.

Yes, I say scurry, because my hands were now more like paws, my nails more like claws. I hissed and spat and I clawed up his back, wrapping my paws around his neck and biting down.

He choked and gargled and spun me around, grabbing at my neck, grabbing at my tail — yes, I had a tail! — but I did not let go.

Even as his servants ripped me from him, even as I heard myself hissing and screeching like some ancient feline spirit; even then, I grasped at his red mask, my claws sunk deep into the silken hood. And as I fell back to the ground, the mask came free from his massive head, the red fabric slipping away as easily as silk slips from a marble statue.

Once the mask was clear of his face, the red robe fell away, too, landing in a pile on the floor — revealing a great nothingness where a god had once stood.

The crowd gasped in horror.

"Now that's what I call a disappearing act!" Lucille Ball said.

"Typical," I heard Edgar Allan scoff in the back of the room.

Inexplicably, I landed on my hands and knees, momentarily unsure of what had happened. I shook my head and searched my body, half expecting to find paws and fur, but found my own pink flesh peaking through the tattered satin gloves. I yanked the gloves from my hands.

"Laura?" Carmilla said, flustered and out of breath.

I jumped to her side, pulling the blindfold from her eyes, disappointed to see the mask still firmly in place.

"Are you alive? Are you breathing? Should I administer CPR?"

"Love to," she said. "But now's not the time."

"Are you hurt? Are you bleeding?"

"Remarkably no," she said.

"Good! Let's get out of here!"

I fumbled with the rope at her wrists.

"Uh, Laura..."

"What?"

Little did I know, behind me, the servants were reassembling the robe, mask and gloves, holding them open, as if expecting someone to step right into them.

There was a great gust of wind, and the wind sounded like an embarrassed moan.

"Holy Chronus!" Saturn's voice echoed through the ballroom. "That hasn't happened in decades."

He reappeared beneath the clothes, giving form to the formless once more.

He adjusted his robe and brushed off his shoulders.

"That was uncalled for young lady!" he shouted.

"_That_ was uncalled for? But human sacrifice is totally kosher?"

"Wait a minute…" Saturn said, placing his hands on his hips. "Do you guys seriously think I'm going to kill her?"

"Of course, we have eyes!"

"Didn't you guys read the invitation?"

The crowd fell silent.

I glanced at Carmilla. She shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, _Don't ask me._

"Well, no…" I said, my hands raised defensively in monkey pose. "But I heard all about your little Munera liability clause!"

"Didn't you read the fine print?"

"I thought that was the fine print," I said.

"No, I mean, the fine-fine print... you know, the double asterisk? The place where it clearly states that 'No humans shall be harmed in the dramatic reenactment of the sacrificial rite of the Munera.'"

"Dramatic reenactment?" I said.

"Yes," Saturn said.

He picked up his knife and slashed the blade down against his own forearm. The blade slipped away, sliding silently into the shaft handle.

"False knife!" he said. "You don't honestly think I would sacrifice a real human, do you? I mean, I've done some things that I'm not proud of — who hasn't? — but that was like thirty-thousand years ago. What does a god have to do to reinvent his image?"

"Oh, I don't know!" I shouted. "Stop wearing a creepy Mask of the Red Death costume!?"

"Creepy? I was going for festive," Saturn said, considering his own robe.

"The Tuxedo Minions don't help, either," Carmilla chimed in.

"Huh…" Saturn said, perplexed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

He regarded his stone-faced minions with his hands on his hips, but behind him the crowd began to fidget and whisper.

I felt Carmilla's hand slip around my elbow.

"Let's get out of here," she whispered in my ear.

"Best. Idea. Ever," I whispered back.

We tried our best to slip off stage, but Saturn called after us.

"Are you leaving already?" he said.

The crowd was growing more restless by the moment.

"That was the worst Munera of the century!" someone shouted.

"Yeah, where's the gore!? And the pyrotechnics!"

Carmilla's eyes went wide. "Did they just say pyrotechnics?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Saturn said. "Just a few stage tricks. Totally safe. You should stay."

"Gee, no thanks. Getting fake-sacrificed really takes it out of a girl, you know?" Carmilla sassed as we slowly backed down the steps.

"Oh, come on! No hard feelings?"

That's when I pushed my hand right up against Saturn's ethereal sternum, holding him at arm's distance.

"The lady said no," I said.

The crowd had started chanting by then. "Munera! Munera! Munera!"

"Here's my advice," I said. "If you're looking to bring your brand into the twenty-first century, cut it out with the all the sacrificing — real or dramatized. The notion that one person must suffer in order for the group to prosper, well... it's antiquated, dysfunctional, and just plain gross."

Saturn was speechless.

"Welcome to Ethics 101, Sweetie," Carmilla said.

We headed for the exit without another word. No white-gloved servant tried to stop us, nor did they dare step foot in our path. The crowd cried out for the conclusion of the Manura, pumping their fists and stamping their feet.

As we reached the door, Saturn cleared his throat and spoke, his voice unsteady.

"Alright, alright folks," he said. "I guess this concludes the Munera."

The crowd erupted into a swell of dissatisfied groans and shouts.

"The, uh… the, uh… Secret Saturn gift exchange will start at 2 o'clock, until then… let's just...let's get back to dancing."

Carmilla pushed open the door for me.

"Oh, and one more thing…" Saturn said over the din of the room. "If you haven't prepared a gift, one will be prepared _of_ you."

Our eyes met as the door closed behind us. We shook our heads in disbelief.

"Some gods will never learn," I sighed.


	9. Chapter 9

Once we stepped from the porch and pulled the masks from our faces, the woods went completely dark.

We were completely alone, no Munera Hall, no fireflies, no super-luminescent stars overhead — they had all disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Carm?" I said.

I reached out for her. I grabbed hold of her wrist, her skin still warm.

"What's up, Cupcake?" she said.

"Just checking if you're still here," I said. "Can you see anything?"

"I can see enough," she said.

Next, her hands were on my face, her lips were on my lips, and just as fast as she kissed me, she pulled away.

"What? What was that?" I said.

"I was just checking..."

"Checking what?"

"To see if the magic had worn off yet."

She kissed me again, and I tasted her split lip, and though my heart quickened, it was more from her embrace than from the metallic taste of her blood.

"And?" I whispered.

"See for yourself," she said, leaning her head back.

I looked up, and the stars were back to their stationary selves, just ordinary twinkling stars, beautiful in their ordinary way. But I knew exactly what Carmilla was seeing, and I knew why she smiled so big and sighed.

"Happy to be back?" I said.

"I guess so," she said. "Aren't you?"

"I'll be happier once we get out of these woods."

I pulled out my new flashlight.

We didn't walk long before we reached the edge of the woods. As we crossed the grassy lawn beside the cemetery, the sky was growing lighter by the moment.

"How is it almost morning?" I said. "It was only midnight back at Munera Hall."

Carmilla shrugged her shoulders.

"Right," I said. "Magic."

By the time we got back to the dormitory, the sky was a bluish-gray, a color that represented safety and security to me. But when I glanced at Carmilla; she was already squinting, with one hand raised over her eyes.

"I'm sorry we didn't stay long enough to see the sunrise," I said.

"Don't apologize," she said. "I think we wore out our welcome anyway. We definitely won't be getting invited to another Saturnalia ball any time soon."

"Well, I hate to say that I told you so, but we could have avoided this whole embarrassing spectacle had you just read the invitation like a responsible adult."

She rolled her eyes as we climbed the front steps. "Like I said, I live life on the edge."

Her words reminded me of something. I stopped her at the door. I pushed my hand against her chest and smiled.

"Wait here," I said.

"I already told you, sun equals mind-searing migraine?"

"I know! Just trust me!"

I ran upstairs, pulled the box of presents out from beneath my bed and took out the welder's mask. When I returned she was sitting on the front steps with her hands over her eyes as if playing hide-and-seek.

"Laura," she said, "if this is your sick idea of..."

"Just wait a minute," I said. "I thought of the perfect present."

"That's just great, but how am I supposed to see it?"

"Patience, Cupcake," I said.

I sat next to her and held the mask in front of her face.

"There," I said. "Open your eyes."

"Remember the part where I said it feels like my cranium will explode if I...?"

"Do you really think I'd let anything happen to you?" I said.

At that, she sighed and opened her eyes, just barely.

"Whoa!" she said, leaning forward and pulling the mask right up against her face.

She was quiet after that — very quiet and very still. Her mouth hung open and I was sure that she didn't budge even one tiny bit. She just stared.

We sat like that a long time, watching the clouds change by the moment, brightening from charcoal to smoky gray, from deep purple to luminescent pink, and then finally to a crisp, bright white that was so bright it nearly hurt my eyes.

And still she did not move.

The birds chirped a cheerful tune, and the dew melted on the grass.

And still she did not move.

I scooched right up next to her, slipping my arm around her shoulders and leaning against her.

She did not move.

I know I should have let her enjoy her moment but I just couldn't take the suspense any longer. I leaned close to her ear and whispered, "So?"

She turned to me, and though her face was hidden and her voice was muffled, I could still hear her smile.

"Best. Saturnalia. Ever."


End file.
